


last night's dream

by theafterimages



Series: frat au [33]
Category: EXO (Band), VIXX
Genre: (for now) - Freeform, M/M, established taovi, one-sided rabin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-28
Updated: 2015-03-28
Packaged: 2018-03-20 03:08:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3634368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theafterimages/pseuds/theafterimages
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a really bad idea. But… (Set during part three of <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/3602649">woke me up</a>)</p>
            </blockquote>





	last night's dream

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted [here](http://eveninadream.livejournal.com/7174.html) in June 2014.

“You look so… super,” Jaehwan tells Hongbin for roughly the tenth time in the two hours since the Heroes & Villains mixer started, ruffling Hongbin’s hair. Hongbin frowns and swats his hand away. It had taken him a whole _hour_ to get the curl over his forehead just right. How can he be Superman if Jaehwan ruins his hair?

Even so, he’s glad Jaehwan’s been hanging out with him tonight, especially since he’s stopped telling Hongbin to try on his Iron Man helmet. And Kyungsoo’s with them, too, and he’s perfect as the Hulk, especially when he glares at anyone who tells him that. Now that Taekwoon’s hardly ever here to stick close to, Hongbin hangs out with Jaehwan and Kyungsoo at parties a lot, since they don’t dance, either. Though tonight he maybe kind of wishes he did. It looks like fun, and everyone looks so good. He wishes he had his camera. He could get a few pictures out of it. 

Hongbin hasn't seen Sanghyuk in a while and frowns a little at the thought. He's probably off with Baekhyun. They disappear together during every party—during every evening, for that matter. It’s not what Hongbin had thought finally having Sanghyuk with him at Cartwright would be like.

He hasn’t seen Wonshik and Zitao, either. It’s so weird. He usually sees them at every party, the two of them putting on a progressively bigger show until they disappear, too. He usually can’t look anywhere else. Good mood wavering, he quickly finishes his latest drink before Jaehwan notices and tries to cut him off again.

Then suddenly Zitao’s there in front of them, dressed all in black, a mask around his eyes and a rapier at his hip. Dread Pirate Roberts, Hongbin thinks immediately, and when that’s followed up by the mental image of Wonshik dressed as Princess Buttercup he has to cover his mouth to smother his laughter.

“What do you want?” Jaehwan asks, holding one hand palm-out like he’s either trying to hold Zitao off or show off the details of his Iron Man suit some more.

Zitao giggles and glances at Hongbin, who waves at him. “Can I have _him_?” Zitao asks Jaehwan hopefully.

“I don’t think-” Jaehwan begins.

“ _Yes_ ,” Hongbin says in a rush, and Zitao beams and helps him up, then drags him out into the crowd.

Hongbin expects Zitao to take him to Wonshik, but instead the two of them end up dancing together. Hongbin can barely dance on a good day, but Zitao’s a good friend, so he takes care of everything even though he smells like he’s had about as much to drink as Hongbin. Hongbin can’t stop tripping over his own feet, much less Zitao’s, and it makes them both laugh.

“You look _really_ good,” Zitao tells him.

Hongbin beams. “I know. Wonshik told me I would.”

“You being Superman was my idea,” Zitao says, pouting.

“I know.” Zitao had insisted on it, pointing out Hongbin’s jawline and broad shoulders. But it had been Wonshik’s nod and enthusiastic agreement that had convinced Hongbin to go along with it. What if Wonshik thinks he looks good, too? What if—no, he shouldn’t think like this, especially when he’s with Wonshik’s boyfriend. And Zitao’s lower lip is still jutting out, so Hongbin quickly pats his shoulder and tells him, “You look better, though.”

“I’m Zorro,” Zitao informs him, perking up.

“Not Dread Pirate Roberts?” Hongbin frowns as soon as he says it. After all, this brings up a very important philosophical issue. “Could someone go as him? He’s a hero, right? Or does it have to be superheroes? But not everyone here is-”

Zitao starts giggling again, sulking forgotten. “You’re so cute,” he tells Hongbin. His hand curls around the back of Hongbin’s neck. He starts stroking his thumb in circles against Hongbin’s skin, and it feels really nice.

And then Zitao is leaning in closer…

and Zitao is…

kissing him???

It’s a bad idea, even if Hongbin’s a little too drunk to remember exactly why it’s a bad idea right now. Zitao sighs and kisses him again, melting into him, lips soft and slightly chapped, and Hongbin’s head is spinning and he’s kissing Zitao back and it’s-

 

 

 

 

 

 

And the next thing he knows, he’s waking up in his own bed with a groan, still fully dressed, a glass of water and two tablets of Ibuprofen on the end table.

It's not the first time Hongbin's woken up like that the morning after a party, and for a few confusing seconds he’s sure it means that Taekwoon took care of him, the way he always used to when he and Hakyeon still lived at the house. But that doesn’t make sense, Hongbin realizes, given that Taekwoon avoids as many frat parties as possible now that he's graduated and Hongbin doesn’t remember seeing him or Hakyeon the night before. Maybe Jaehwan did it in his place, Hongbin thinks, and then dismisses it all in favor of groaning about his headache and gingerly trying to untangle himself from his Superman cape.

Once he finally pries himself out of bed and into the shower, he's almost done when a sudden--dream? memory? hallucination?—of the press of Zitao’s palm against Hongbin’s lower back as they kissed hits out of _nowhere_. He drops the bottle of conditioner and jumps at the sound, wincing as the lingering headache pounds even harder.

He makes it out of the shower somehow, gets dressed and fixes his hair and rinses with mouthwash and tries all the while to figure out what that could mean. He wouldn't--he wouldn’t do that to Wonshik, right? Zitao wouldn't, right? And Zitao and Wonshik are always together at parties. It wouldn't make sense for Wonshik to have not been there. 

He touches his lips, staring at himself in the mirror. It couldn't have happened. It must have been a dream, or his imagination going haywire. But...

The only person he can think of to ask is Sanghyuk. Unfortunately for him, Sanghyuk seems to be the only person in Kappa Tau who doesn't know the answer, but the rest are more than happy to fill him in. 

"I have pictures, too! Look!" Jackson announces after Jaehwan fills him in on just why the mention of Zitao's name sends Hongbin panicking again. Jackson thumbs quickly through his phone before thrusting the screen at Hongbin. It's just as well he doesn’t actually hand it to him, since the sight of the photograph he's taken probably would've made Hongbin drop that, too.

Hongbin’s always thought that hedonism suits Zitao perfectly. He could do a photography study on it. Glitter and sin and Zitao, all dark eyes and bared skin and unspoken promises. Some detached part of his mind reflects that this picture wouldn’t qualify given the quality, given that it’s too blurry and should have been centered more. All the same, it tells a story, all right. He'd just... never thought that he would be involved. 

This is bad. This is bad. _This is so bad._ He has to talk to Wonshik. Assuming Wonshik even wants to talk to him right now. Assuming Wonshik will ever want to talk to him again. Oh god, he was the first person Wonshik had told when Zitao had agreed to be exclusive with him last year. He can still remember how Wonshik had practically glowed. And now Hongbin’s ruined it, and all because his alcohol tolerance is so shitty, and-

"Hongbin, breathe," Sanghyuk tells him again, grabbing his shoulders. "Eat something."

"I can't eat,” Hongbin says, voice hollow. “My life is ruined."

"Eat or I'm calling Hakyeon."

Hongbin promptly sits down. "Maybe a bagel," he decides, even though it’s much closer to dinner time than breakfast.

He's almost done eating, the cinnamon raisin bagel tasting like sawdust in his mouth, when Wonshik walks into the kitchen and smiles at Hongbin. He must not know, Hongbin thinks with a mix of relief and dread. Then _Zitao_ follows on his heels, and Hongbin can't read the grin Zitao sends him. But if he's smiling, then he must not know, either. Hongbin has to tell _both_ of them. 

"Here for a repeat performance?" Taemin asks Zitao promptly, because even this can't go Hongbin's way.

"No more Batman voice?" Sanghyuk cuts in.

"I’m giving Jongin a break,” Taemin explains, adding in a stage whisper, “You have _no idea_ what it does to him." Jongin turns bright red, shoving at Taemin before he goes to half-hide behind Kyungsoo's much narrower frame, heedless of the judgmental looks Kyungsoo is giving both of them.

Hongbin, meanwhile, swallows. "Can we talk?" he asks Wonshik and Zitao quietly. "Just us?"

They trade a look. "Yeah, sure, come on," Wonshik tells him.

He follows them back up to their room. Zitao reaches back once, like he always does, and starts to say something, but his fingers just barely graze Hongbin's forearm before Hongbin jerks away. Zitao looks hurt but doesn't say anything, just keeps walking up the stairs.

“I’m sorry,” Hongbin blurts out as soon as they get to Zitao and Wonshik's room and Wonshik closes the door behind them. “About last night.”

Zitao and Wonshik glance at each other. Zitao’s brow furrows. “What about it?” Wonshik asks after a pause.

“Zitao and I…” Hongbin swallows. “I found out—we… we kissed. At the party.” He still can’t read either of their faces, which makes it even worse, because normally he can always tell what they’re thinking, and hurries on, hoping he can somehow say the right words to express how sorry he is. “I was drunk, and I still don’t really understand why I—but there’s no excuse. You guys are dating, and I shouldn’t have—I don’t want to cause any trouble, or get between you, or-”

“Hongbin, it’s okay,” Wonshik interrupts him, resting a hand on his shoulder. “I’m not mad. Everybody was drunk.”

Hongbin’s seen Wonshik hurt and annoyed and trying to hide his feelings, but there aren’t any signs of that now, no matter how hard Hongbin looks. But he can’t believe it, not when Wonshik’s been so in love with Zitao since before Hongbin had even met them. How could knowing that Zitao kissed someone else, especially a close friend, not bother him? “Really? We’re okay?”

“We’re fine,” Zitao says.

Wonshik nods, squeezing Hongbin’s shoulder. “We really are. I promise.” 

Hongbin barely has time to breathe a sigh of relief before Zitao steps closer, curling one hand around the back of Hongbin’s neck in a way that has some dim memory stirring to life in Hongbin’s mind. “Hongbin?”

Hongbin swallows. Somehow he’s willing to bet that Zitao looked at him like this last night, too—in a less focused way, maybe, but still. “Yeah?”

“What if we said we wanted you between us?”

Not even he can miss what Zitao’s words so obviously mean. His eyes immediately snap to Wonshik’s face. Wonshik doesn’t even look _surprised_. “But—you’re— _me_?”

“Only if you want to,” Wonshik assures him quickly, his hand sliding along Hongbin’s arm to take Hongbin’s hand and link their fingers together. “We won’t do anything you’re not ready for. Just let us know. Okay?”

This is a bad idea, Hongbin knows. A really bad idea. Hooking up with them when he has feelings for Wonshik and is good friends with them both is the worst idea. But if this is the only chance he’ll have to… “Okay,” he says before he can talk himself out of it, and Wonshik smiles.

“Can I kiss you?” he asks, and when Hongbin nods, all words gone now, Wonshik does, cupping Hongbin’s face in his hands. He eases Hongbin into it, his lips soft and closed against Hongbin’s at first, reassuring and sweet; maybe because he can feel Hongbin shaking, which intensifies when Zitao circles around and wraps his arms around Hongbin. It’s the kind of kiss Hongbin’s imagined getting from Wonshik a thousand times, but none of those daydreams have ever included how Zitao’s hands slide under Hongbin’s shirt, how they feel so hot against his skin as they map out his torso, the metal of Zitao’s many rings feeling even cooler in contrast. Hongbin shudders, tangling one hand in Zitao’s hair, and Zitao sucks a kiss into the crook of his neck, hard enough that Hongbin is dimly aware it’ll bruise.

Zitao lets go for a second, and Hongbin hears cloth rustling, then a quiet thump. Wonshik breaks their kiss and looks past Hongbin to Zitao. “You should’ve checked with Hongbin first,” he reminds him.

“It’s fine,” Hongbin says quickly.

“Sorry, Hongbin,” Zitao says anyway, leaning forward and kissing his cheek.

“It’s _fine_. You don’t have to treat me like-” He makes the mistake of looking back at Zitao, and his mouth goes dry. It’s far from the first time he’s seen Zitao shirtless, but it’s the first time like _this_ , when it’s going to lead to so much more.

Zitao stares right back at him. “I want-” Wonshik clears his throat, and Zitao sighs but amends his words, “Can I kiss you again?” He puts enough emphasis on the last word that Hongbin can feel his own face heat up, even though he nods. “And Wonshik should take off his clothes, too, right?”

Wonshik chokes on a laugh. “ _Tao_ -” he begins, only to cut off sharply when Hongbin nods again, not quite daring to look at him.

“And you, too,” Zitao adds, planting kisses along Hongbin’s jawline. He tugs Hongbin’s shirt for emphasis, and smiles widely when Hongbin manages to discard it despite how his hands are shaking. “Good,” Zitao purrs, and now he kisses Hongbin properly.

Hongbin’s seen the pictures from last night, and he has a few flashes of memory, but none of it prepares him for how skillfully Zitao kisses. He seems to have decided that Wonshik’s eased them into this enough, since he just dives in and takes over, sweeping Hongbin along in his wake. Every inch of Hongbin’s body has gone hyperaware of how Wonshik’s plastered against his back, arms securely around his waist, softly kissing the bruises Zitao had left earlier; of how Zitao’s molded against his front, hands hard on his hips, seemingly trying to map out every inch of Hongbin’s mouth; and of how his own body is throbbing, desperate for more even though he can still feel doubts waiting to assail him as soon as the other two give him any time to clear his head.

But he has doubts about _everything_ , Hongbin thinks suddenly, and he’s tired of them. He spent his whole life back home playing it safe, trying to blend in and keep his head down. He has to start taking chances sometime.

The sudden surge of determination has him sliding his hands along Zitao’s perfectly sculpted body to the fastenings of his jeans. He can feel Zitao smile against his lips. “You want to?” Zitao murmurs.

“Yeah,” Hongbin breathes, and Zitao kisses him again, even more heatedly this time, as Hongbin undoes Zitao’s strategically ripped jeans, the sounds of the zipper and their kisses and Wonshik’s quiet inhale echoing in Hongbin’s ears. 

Zitao’s the one to pull them off, briefs along with them, lips curving upwards into something too arrogant to be a smile as Hongbin takes in the sight of him. His own body is nice enough, Hongbin knows, but Zitao’s… it’s no wonder he’s so confident in his own skin. Hongbin wonders what that’s like.

Zitao’s cock is right there, long and hard and—Hongbin should touch it, right? That’s the obvious next step, isn’t it? “Do you want-” 

“Yes,” Zitao interrupts him, and when Hongbin’s gaze shoots up to Zitao’s face Zitao’s smiling at him like he has during any number of their classes together or their walks around campus. Something in Hongbin eases a little. No matter how weird this is, it’s still Zitao. They’ll be fine. 

“You didn’t even know what I was going to say.” 

“Touch me?” Zitao asks hopefully, and Hongbin does, fingertips skating over Zitao’s sides again before he makes his way down. 

He’s just reached Zitao’s cock when Zitao suddenly says, “Wait!” Hongbin stops short, immediately worried, but Zitao just reaches for his wrist, circling it carefully with two fingers. “We forgot something,” he says, and there’s that smile again, one that’s starting to serve as a warning for Hongbin. 

Not that anything could have prepared him for how Zitao lifts his hand to his lips, then slides his tongue along Hongbin’s palm, kicking off points of awareness Hongbin didn’t even know he had, eyes gleaming wickedly. 

Wonshik rests his chin on Hongbin’s shoulder, hands bracketing his hips, steadying him. “He likes to put on a show,” Wonshik tells him, his voice fond. Zitao winks and curls his tongue around Hongbin’s first two fingers as a grand finale, then kisses the inside of Hongbin’s wrist, smiling at them both as he straightens up.

And how is Hongbin supposed to live up to that? Not that Chanshik had ever complained during their hookups last year, but he’s pretty sure that Zitao helping him get his hand ready was hotter than anything Hongbin will ever do in his life. But Zitao and Wonshik are waiting, so he steels himself and reaches for Zitao’s cock again. He tugs once, twice, then freezes when he sees Zitao startle. How has he messed this up _already_?

“Hey,” Wonshik says gently, covering Hongbin’s hand with his own. “Start slower, like this.” He presses closer as he starts to move both of their hands, and Hongbin inhales sharply as he feels the press of Wonshik’s cock against him even through Wonshik’s sweatpants. With his other hand he turns Hongbin’s head back to steal a kiss, then another as his fingers start to roam downwards, hot and branding against Hongbin’s skin. He circles one of Hongbin’s nipples, then the other, toying with the hard buds and laughing lowly when it makes Hongbin gasp. He wonders if Wonshik can feel his heart slamming against his chest, but Wonshik doesn’t say a word as his hand continues down Hongbin’s body, tracing over his abdomen before coming to a momentary halt above Hongbin’s waistband. Hongbin momentarily wonders if Wonshik will undo the fastenings, before Wonshik keeps going, skipping over them in favor of palming Hongbin through the denim, the unexpected pressure making Hongbin startle, Zitao momentarily forgotten, and drop his head back against Wonshik’s shoulder as he continues. His free hand clutches at Wonshik’s hip, and he helplessly presses back against him, stunned pleasure rushing through his veins as Wonshik rubs harder. Wonshik’s cock is hard and distinguishable even through their trousers as he rubs against Hongbin’s ass, and Hongbin _wants_ -

“Okay, okay,” Zitao gasps, regaining Hongbin’s attention as he pushes their hands away, “okay, your turn-” Hongbin’s caught off-balance as Zitao leads them both across the room, to where Zitao and Wonshik’s beds are shoved together against the wall. 

In no time at all Zitao has Hongbin’s jeans off and pushes him down onto the mattress. He’s quick to follow, hands and knees framing Hongbin’s body, crouching over him. Hongbin stares, waiting, and Zitao leans down for an insistent kiss before tearing himself away, sinuously shifting down until he’s level with Hongbin’s waist. One hand still on the mattress, he strokes Hongbin’s cock once with the other, then angles it towards his face. Zitao looks up at him, eyes hot and heavy-lidded, before taking his cock slow and deep. 

Hongbin groans, shutting his eyes against the sudden onslaught of wet heat and Zitao’s teasing tongue. He hears Wonshik’s laugh, low and strangled, from where he’s standing by the bed, and Hongbin reaches out blindly toward him. When Wonshik takes his hand, squeezing it, Hongbin feels grounded enough to open his eyes again. 

“I know,” Wonshik says with a small smile. His eyes are so dark, nearly all pupil, and at some point he’d taken off his sweatpants, too. Hongbin’s gaze drops to Wonshik’s cock, remembering how it had felt against him earlier, and that thrumming in his bloodstream starts up again.

Zitao’s next slide has Hongbin’s cock hitting the back of his throat, successfully distracting Hongbin from more dangerous ideas. Hongbin covers his mouth with the back of his hand, muffling his whimpers as best he can until Wonshik pulls it away.

“We want to hear you,” Wonshik insists, and Hongbin lets out an embarrassingly loud moan before Wonshik bends down and kisses him, fisting a hand in Hongbin’s hair as he licks his way into Hongbin’s mouth, swallowing every noise he makes. Zitao pulls off, tracing his tongue around the crown and underside, dipping into the slit and otherwise doing his best to make Hongbin come embarrassingly early. He hasn’t done this since last year and Zitao is so good, he can’t-

“I-” Hongbin whispers against Wonshik’s mouth.

Wonshik sucks at his lower lip, then kisses him again. “You’re doing great,” he murmurs, voice low. The words send another burst of heat through Hongbin’s system, and all he wants is to earn more, to make Wonshik feel as good as he does. Hongbin reaches out shakily and wraps his hand around Wonshik’s cock. Wonshik makes a sound low in his throat and arches into his touch as Hongbin starts to jerk him off, doing his best to replicate the pace they’d set with Zitao earlier.

That’s when he feels Zitao pull off, the mattress dipping under Zitao’s weight as he crawls forward, then takes both their cocks in hand and tugs them together a few times, pressing kisses against Hongbin’s neck and collarbones. All the stimulation has Hongbin gasping and staring at Zitao, who smiles, slow and feline, before letting go.

“Hongbin,” Zitao murmurs, “do you want me to ride you? I’m all ready, look.” He pulls Hongbin’s free hand down. Head spinning, with Zitao’s guidance Hongbin slips two fingers, then three, into Zitao’s lube-slick entrance, his heart pounding even harder when he hears Zitao’s high-pitched moan, feels Zitao tightening and fluttering around him.

“I… I’m-” Hongbin looks back up at Wonshik, hit with a sudden burst of panic, and Wonshik frowns and rests a hand on his shoulder.

“What’s wrong? It’s okay.”

“I’ve never…” His gaze drops to the crumpled sheets. He can still feel the weight of their stares, but he doesn’t want to know just how they’re looking at him while he’s admitting this. “I mean, Chanshik and I did—but nothing more than—it never went further than what we’ve done so far.” He wets his lips, sure that he’s completely blown it. “Is that bad? Do you want to stop, or-”

“Hongbin-” Wonshik begins. 

Before he can say anything else Zitao tilts Hongbin’s face upwards in one hand and leans in, voice lower than usual as he murmurs, “Hell no,” before kissing him again. It can’t be in consolation, not when it’s as fierce as if Hongbin had never interrupted at all, not when Zitao hums in satisfaction when Hongbin overcomes his momentary hesitation and tangles his hands in Zitao’s bleached blond hair.

When Zitao lets him go, Hongbin breathlessly asks, “So, which question were you answering, because-” only to cut off with a yelp when Zitao grasps his cock and tugs it a few times, smirking as it pulses in his hand.

“We want you,” he tells Hongbin. Hongbin’s gaze darts up to Wonshik long enough to see him nod, to take in the sight of him with his own cock in hand, before Zitao reclaims his attention. “So do you want me to ride you, Hongbin?”

_Yes yes yes_ , Hongbin says, or maybe just thinks, he isn’t sure anymore. His hands are fumbling so badly that Wonshik has to help put the condom on him, and then Zitao is sinking down onto him, tipping his head back and moaning when he bottoms out.

The tightness, the heat—it’s almost too much, but Hongbin has no time to fully take it in, not when Zitao starts moving almost immediately. Zitao bites his own lip, then throws his head back, arching his back as he runs his hands over his own body. Hedonism, Hongbin thinks again with no small amount of awe. 

Wonshik climbs into the bed behind Hongbin, wrapping his arms around him and sucking kisses against the back of his neck. “Isn’t he beautiful?” he murmurs, breath hot against Hongbin’s ear.

“Y-yes,” Hongbin manages, whimpering when Zitao clenches down around him. Wonshik takes one of Hongbin’s hands and wraps it back around Zitao’s flushed cock, covers it with his own, and they jerk Zitao off together, like before. Zitao sobs and somehow moves even faster, and Hongbin’s head is already spinning when Zitao kisses him.

Then he feels Wonshik’s free hand reach down, fingertips tracing where Hongbin and Zitao are connected. Hongbin can almost withstand it, almost, until Wonshik’s fingers slide back and start rubbing Hongbin’s balls, and then he arches up and comes with a cry, Zitao riding him through it.

Wonshik’s kissing Hongbin’s neck again as Zitao gets off him with a sigh, removing and discarding the condom for him. “I should-” Hongbin mumbles hazily, lolling back against Wonshik’s chest.

“You don’t need to do anything,” Wonshik assures him, kissing his temple. “You’re perfect.”

“ _Somebody_ needs to take care of me,” Zitao says petulantly, sitting down next to them, and Wonshik immediately turns toward him and threads a hand through his hair, kissing him. For once Hongbin enjoys having a front-row seat for it.

“What do you want, sweetheart?” Wonshik murmurs.

“The same thing as always,” Zitao says, leaning in closer as Wonshik starts to kiss his way down his neck. “Everything.”

Which translates into him taking Hongbin’s place in front of Wonshik, Zitao’s back against his chest as he lowers himself onto Wonshik’s cock. Hongbin’s not entirely sure what to do, so he just watches, taking mental snapshots of Wonshik’s heavy-lidded eyes, Wonshik’s hands clutching at Zitao’s hips as Zitao moves ever more frantically. It’s not much longer before Wonshik goes rigid and comes, quiet groan muffled against Zitao’s shoulder. Hongbin wonders what that must feel like for Zitao; what it would feel like if _he_ was the one Wonshik had-

“Come _on_ ,” Zitao grumbles, startling Hongbin back out of his thoughts as he lifts himself back off Wonshik’s lap. “I know my ass is perfect, but you two-“

“It really is,” Wonshik says, reverent and still breathing a little heavily, and while Zitao’s complaints soften a little, his cock hasn’t. Which gives Hongbin an idea.

“Can I…” he begins, trailing off as he indicates it.

“Whatever you want,” Zitao assures him hurriedly, and Hongbin moves, one hand braced on one of Zitao’s thighs as he wraps the other around his cock and leans in.

“Breathe through your nose, and—relax your-” Zitao begins unevenly, stroking Hongbin’s hair.

Hongbin shoots him an impatient look and pulls off long enough to say, “It’s not my first time doing _this_.”

“I’m just trying to be helpful,” Zitao protests, and when Wonshik laughs Zitao shoots a look over his shoulder.

The mild irritation is enough to banish Hongbin’s nerves, proving himself becoming the priority. It still can’t feel half as good as when Zitao had blown him, Hongbin thinks wryly, given that he hasn’t done this since that one party with Chanshik last year and he definitely doesn’t have Zitao’s skill. But he must be doing something right, because it’s not long before Zitao becomes louder than ever and barely coherent, only just able to string together moans and pleas for more.

“Hongbin, _Hongbin_ -” Zitao tugs on his hair, voice breaking, and Hongbin pulls off reluctantly to ask what he wants—just as Zitao comes with a wail, the first stripe splattering across Hongbin’s face.

Hongbin yelps and lets go of Zitao’s cock indignantly, wiping at his face with the back of his hand. Zitao’s still gasping for air as he comes down, and Wonshik’s not quite suppressing his snickers. Hongbin is prepared to ignore both of them until that plan is ruined when Wonshik catches Hongbin’s hand and brings it to his own mouth, licking the side of Hongbin’s hand clean as Hongbin watches, stunned.

“What?” Wonshik asks, cheeks flushed. “He tastes good.”

“It's all the fruit,” Zitao pants. “Sorry, Hongbin.”

“It’s okay,” Hongbin says automatically. His hand’s still tingling, and he can’t stop staring at Wonshik’s lazy, sated smile.

“I’ll make it up to you. In a second.”

“He’s good at that,” Wonshik adds, kissing Zitao’s temple when Zitao laughs breathlessly.

Hongbin should go. He should really go, eat and shower and sleep and try to figure out how he can ever pretend things can go back to normal after this. But… “Okay,” he agrees, and is rewarded with a bright smile from Zitao. Funny to think that the last time Zitao smiled at him like that was when Hongbin agreed to cover the cost of his coffee the week before.

As soon as Wonshik is finished cleaning them both off Zitao lightly pushes Hongbin onto his back, curling up against him for a sweaty but oddly platonic hug, tucking his chin under Hongbin’s head. Hongbin’s startled but hugs him back, meeting Wonshik’s gaze over Zitao’s shoulder. Wonshik’s looking down at them with an expression Hongbin can’t quite read.

After a few more minutes of rest Zitao’s ready to make good on his word, kissing and nibbling his way down Hongbin’s body until he reaches Hongbin’s already stirring cock. Wonshik leans above Hongbin, fingers tangling in his hair just as Zitao starts to tease along his length, sparing some feather light touches for his balls before making his way to the head.

“What else do you want?” Wonshik murmurs, kissing Hongbin lightly, then open-mouthed and with more heat, Hongbin becoming more desperate with every one of Zitao’s licks and tastes and sucks.

Hongbin wraps a hand around the back of Wonshik’s neck, almost too far gone to be embarrassed by how his voice breaks as he says, “A-anything.”

Zitao pulls off, Hongbin arching up in protest before he can stop himself. “Do you want Wonshik to fuck you?” Zitao suggests, and just the words have Hongbin’s heart pounding. Wonshik has to be able to feel it this time. He should’ve left, he knew he should’ve left, he wants this too much. God, he should’ve left, why didn’t he when he had the chance? “He’s good at it, and that way you’ll have done everything.”

“We don’t have to,” Wonshik says quickly, frowning at his boyfriend. “Tao-”

Zitao grins, unrepentant. “What? You’re not the only one that wants to watch.”

“Okay,” Hongbin blurts out before he can change his mind, and Wonshik immediately looks back down at him, eyes wide.

“What?”

Hongbin wets his lips. Even that simple nervous gesture is different now that he can feel how kiss-swollen they are and taste Wonshik on his tongue. Everything is going to change after this, he’s known that from the start. What’s one more thing? “I want to. We should.”

Wonshik searches his gaze. “Are you _sure_?” 

Hongbin’s unsure of a lot of things—what, exactly, it’ll be like after this, and if this is a good idea. Well, maybe not that. There’s a long list of reasons why this is a terrible idea. But he is sure that if this is going to happen, there’s no one Hongbin trusts or wants more than Wonshik. “I’m sure.”

“If you change your mind just-”

“I won’t,” Hongbin promises. He’s not surprised that Wonshik is being so careful with him. Wonshik has looked out for Hongbin ever since the night they met, when Hongbin was an incoming freshman who still hadn’t been sure even going to a Rush Week event was a good idea, let alone joining a fraternity. Hongbin feels safer with Wonshik than anyone. It’s what prods him to lean up for another kiss, some part of him relaxing when Wonshik returns it.

Wonshik doesn’t jump right into anything, just keeps kissing him until Zitao has Hongbin on the edge. Then Zitao pulls off, laughing as Hongbin breaks away from Wonshik to protest.

“Lube?” Wonshik asks Zitao.

“I’m so far ahead of you,” Zitao says smugly, pulling it out from under one of the pillows and handing it to Wonshik with a flourish. He must notice how Hongbin is staring, because he leans over and kisses Hongbin’s temple. “Don’t worry. He’s good at this, too.”

Hongbin’s tried fingering himself a few times before, but had always found it more awkward and uncomfortable than anything and given up pretty quickly. With Wonshik it’s different, and not just because his fingers are longer and thicker than Hongbin’s. Between the fact that he knows what he’s doing and he knows how to distract Hongbin, he and Zitao combining their efforts to kiss and touch every inch of Hongbin’s body, before Hongbin knows it he’s rocking on three of Wonshik’s fingers, crying out when Wonshik curls them just right and brushes against what has to be Hongbin’s prostate.

Hongbin isn’t as flexible as Zitao, but he manages, his legs up and spread open at Wonshik’s direction. He has to hold himself there while Wonshik rolls on the condom, and turns his heated face toward the pillow when he catches sight of the appreciative look on Wonshik’s face. He can’t begin to imagine how he must look, sweaty and flushed and probably still overwhelmed.

The bed rustles as Wonshik gets into position. Then he tilts Hongbin’s face toward him. “Okay?” he asks one more time.

Hongbin can feel Zitao’s eyes on him as he nods, but doesn’t look at him. He doesn’t want to know what Zitao’s thinking right now. Horrible as it is, he wants to pretend that Zitao’s not there at all; that it’s just him and Wonshik and that it’s happening the way he’s always wanted it to, not this compromise Wonshik doesn’t even know they’ve made.

Hongbin had gripped Wonshik’s cock earlier, felt the weight and heat of it, but that doesn’t mean he’s prepared for how it feels as Wonshik edges inside, hot and pulsing and thick. Hongbin arches back against the pillow, eyes squeezed shut and head turned away again, too overwhelmed by how it feels and how the pornographic sounds are even louder and filthier and more embarrassing in reality. “I’m okay, I’m okay,” he manages every time Wonshik asks, fisting the sheets as Wonshik keeps going, pressing frantic kisses against Hongbin’s jawline as he slowly but surely bottoms out.

“Still with me?” Wonshik asks carefully, cupping one trembling hand against Hongbin’s cheek. Hongbin’s eyes blink hazily open. Wonshik looks focused and determined and stunned, and Hongbin can’t understand how anyone could think sex is just something casual and fun, not when this already has his feelings becoming even more tangled and intense.

“Yeah,” he forces himself to say.

“Can I-”

“ _Yes_ ,” Hongbin says, because there’s nothing he’d refuse Wonshik, now or maybe ever.

He winces when Wonshik moves, can’t help it, and Wonshik immediately goes still, eyes squeezing shut for a few seconds before he opens them again. “We don’t--have to do this,” Wonshik tells him.

Hongbin shakes his head quickly. “I’ll get used to it—just-” He raises his hips when Wonshik doesn’t move, pulling him back in, and Wonshik groans, dropping his head against Hongbin’s shoulder, but starts again.

He does get used to it, like he’d predicted, in time. Wonshik doing his best to take it easy on him helps, as does the way he rubs Hongbin’s sides reassuringly, then slides his hand across Hongbin’s body to tug him back to hardness, sucking kisses against his jawline. 

“Still okay?” Wonshik asks after a while, panting breaths hot against Hongbin’s face.

“I’m—yeah-” 

“Okay, I’m going to try something, hold on.” Wonshik lets go of his cock and shifts them both up, the initially uncomfortable angle allowing him to slide even deeper into Hongbin. Hongbin wails, one hand coming up to clutch at Wonshik’s back. Wonshik catches the other with his free hand, pinning it to the mattress and linking their fingers together as he leans up and claims Hongbin’s mouth, something less a kiss and more both of them breathing into each other’s mouths as Wonshik drives into him, Wonshik’s hand gripping Hongbin’s so tightly it borders on painful.

“Wonshik—I’m-” Hongbin’s so close, but this isn’t going to be enough; he needs Wonshik’s hand on him again, he needs—

He nearly jumps a mile, raking his hand down Wonshik’s back and drawing a strangled gasp from him, when Zitao reaches over and starts to quickly stroke Hongbin’s cock. Hongbin had genuinely forgotten that he was there, but he can’t worry about that now, when Wonshik thrusts two, three more times at just the right angle and Zitao twists his hand just right, and Hongbin comes, Zitao relentlessly pumping him through it. Whimpering and oversensitive, he drops back against the pillows, staring half-aware into Wonshik’s focused, dark eyes.

“ _Hongbin_ -” Wonshik’s voice breaks and Hongbin rests one weak hand against the back of Wonshik’s neck, watching with half-closed eyes as Wonshik thrusts a few more times, then goes still and comes, pulsing inside Hongbin as he fills the condom. 

Breathing gradually evening out, Hongbin looks over at an expectant Zitao. “I told you so,” Zitao says, but fondly.

“Yeah,” Hongbin murmurs, stroking Wonshik’s hair. “Yeah, you did.”

Wonshik hums, pressing his face against Hongbin’s neck. It’s going to get uncomfortable in a minute, but right now the weight of him is oddly reassuring, quieting any of the nerves threatening to return. “This is the part where we sleep for a year, right?”

“It’s always the part where you sleep for a year,” Zitao returns, nudging Wonshik’s side with his foot, and Wonshik reaches for his hand without even looking. They know each other that well, Hongbin thinks with a pang, discomfort setting in right on schedule.

“What about you, Hongbin?” Wonshik asks, startling him. “What do you want to do?”

“I-” Hongbin begins, and is saved from answering when his stomach audibly growls. 

Wonshik lifts his head at that and grins up at him, eyes warm. Hongbin’s heart skips a beat. “Want me to go get some food?”

“And some for me!” Zitao tells him.

Wonshik snorts. “I know that,” he says dryly, grabbing Zitao's ankle before he can nudge him again and laughing at him. 

He pulls out of Hongbin carefully, smiling a little when Hongbin still cringes at the sound. Hongbin isn’t sure what’s stranger, how it had felt to have Wonshik inside of him or how empty he feels without him, his body reflexively clenching around the nothingness. Wonshik strokes Hongbin’s hair quickly and looks like he’s about to speak, then seems to change his mind and just gets up instead. He discards the condom and redresses quickly, grabs a snapback to cover his wrecked hair, and takes another look back at them before he closes the door.

Zitao stretches, then lies back down, winding himself around Hongbin. The weight of him is cozy, reassuring. Not like being held by Wonshik at all. “Are you tired?” Zitao mumbles into his collar bone, and when Hongbin nods he kisses it lightly. “Sleep here tonight, okay?”

“Are you sure?” Hongbin asks, and when Zitao nods, pressing closer to him, Hongbin lets himself close his eyes.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Sated and content, his thoughts quiet for once, Hongbin dozes until he hears Zitao and Wonshik murmuring quietly and catches a mention of his name. His eyes flicker open, more out of curiosity than desire. 

They’re standing over near one of the desks, where there’s still a plate of food that Wonshik must have brought up for Hongbin. He has a dim memory of Zitao trying to wake him up, but maybe it’s not surprising that he’d slept through it. Not after everything. Wonshik’s arms are looped loosely around Zitao’s waist, and while Wonshik’s still dressed Zitao hasn’t bothered. Makes sense, since it’s not like Wonshik or Hongbin haven’t seen it all before. Hongbin’s seen them both naked. God. Everything about this is going to be strange. 

“Tonight was a good idea,” Zitao tells Wonshik, giving him a quick kiss, and Hongbin’s eyes widen. Wonshik had wanted this? Somehow he’d assumed it was Zitao. After all, given how devoted to Zitao Wonshik has always been, why he would want Hongbin, too? For the visual, maybe? He’s said before that he thinks Hongbin is handsome. A lot of people have. It had just… never bothered him with Wonshik, because he’d thought Wonshik had seen more in him than that.

“Mm. Only once, though. You’re all I need.” Hongbin can’t see Wonshik’s face from here, just the way his hand’s stroking Zitao’s cheek, but he can imagine Wonshik’s looking at Zitao the way he always does, devoted and adoring. The way Hongbin wishes Wonshik would look at _him_. His chest tightens at the thought, and the impossibility of it.

He can see Zitao, though, as Wonshik pulls him close. Something Hongbin can’t quite read flickers across Zitao’s face, and then he presses his face against Wonshik’s shoulder. “Me, too,” he says.

Hongbin shuts his eyes. He shouldn’t have been watching in the first place. He hadn’t needed to hear Wonshik’s words to know that tonight was a one-time thing, or that his feelings for Wonshik won’t ever be reciprocated. He’s known that for as long as he’s had them. Wonshik and Zitao may not have been dating when he’d first met them last year, but Wonshik had always been completely in love with Zitao. And why wouldn’t he be when Zitao is everything anyone could ever want? Hongbin can’t be jealous. Envious, maybe, but not jealous. 

He’s nearly asleep again by the time they both climb back into bed. “He’s cute, though,” he hears Zitao murmur fondly.

“He is cute.” Hongbin feels the mattress shift again, and then Wonshik’s leaning over and kissing the top of his head, lightly touching Hongbin’s shoulder. Hongbin holds very still, hoping that Wonshik won’t realize he’s awake. He already knew what Wonshik’s touch felt like—he couldn’t even begin to guess the number of times he’s felt it before—but now he knows what his lips feel like, too, and that’s not something he can face right now.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Hongbin wakes up first, groggy and oddly sore. It takes him a few seconds to place where he is, but then he rolls over and finds himself staring at Wonshik’s bare back, Wonshik’s arm slung over Zitao’s stomach, snoring softly. Both of them are still asleep, Hongbin notes with relief, stomach twisting as he thinks back to the events of the last few days. He’s not sure how he would’ve dealt with it had they been awake. He’s not sure how he’ll deal with them at any point.

He’s afraid he’ll wake them up as he eases out of bed, pulling his jeans back on as carefully as he can, but they’re both still asleep by the time he tiptoes out the door, shirt and shoes in hand. He’s just started to think that he might make a clean escape when he turns and comes face to face with a shocked Sanghyuk.

Hongbin runs into him in the kitchen pretty often when Sanghyuk stays over with Baekhyun, but of course _today_ has to be the first time since the beginning of the semester that they cross paths in the hallway. 

He has no idea how to explain himself, or what to say, but Sanghyuk beats him to the punch. “Why don’t you wear a shirt anymore?” he teases, tone a clear mimicry from when Hongbin had asked him that during one of Kappa Tau’s many parties, and Hongbin reflexively throws the one he’s carrying at him, his face heating up as Sanghyuk laughs and bats it away.

He thinks that might be all of it, a little banter before they part ways again, but he’s not so lucky. “So you got what you wanted,” Sanghyuk says lightly. “How was it?”

That’s not it. That’s not it at all. But Hongbin’s not about to correct Sanghyuk, not when his best friend’s in the process of getting everything _he’s_ wanted; not when Sanghyuk has always fit in better at Cartwright than Hongbin himself. “It was fine,” Hongbin tells him, forcing a smile. “Everything’s fine.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

He takes as long as he can in the shower. The way he’d woken up smelling like sex and Wonshik and Zitao can be fixed, and between long-sleeved shirts and a little BB cream he should be able to cover the few scattered marks. If Sanghyuk keeps quiet, maybe no one has to know what happened.

Frat life means nobody actually gets to take their time in the shower, though, so he’s out and on his way back to his room, towel tied securely around his waist, sooner than he’d like. His roommate’s not there but Wonshik is, sitting on the edge of the bed, bleary-eyed but _there_.

Hongbin gapes at him, one hand on his towel to keep it from slipping. He’d counted on not seeing either of them until this afternoon. He hasn’t had time to prepare himself at all. “What are you doing here?”

Wonshik’s eyes skim down, then return hastily to his face. “Wanted to check on you.” Hongbin shouldn’t be surprised. Wonshik’s always been protective of him. Even when Hongbin was a pledge last year Wonshik had continually checked on him and encouraged him; he’d been one of the first people Hongbin had met during rush week, and one of the most welcoming. Wonshik makes him feel cared for and safe, and that’s one of the things Hongbin likes so much about him. Except right now, when he just makes Hongbin _want_. “How are you?”

“Sore,” Hongbin says without thinking, and that makes Wonshik startle, gaze focusing on him. “I mean-”

“You’re okay, right? I wasn’t too-”

“You were fine,” Hongbin says quickly. “It was-” He stops short; he has no idea how to finish that. Perfect, except for Zitao being there? Perfect, except now getting over him is going to be even more impossible? Perfect, except for how it can never happen again? It’s too soon for this. Hongbin curls his free hand into a fist against his side, fingers digging into his palm. “I’m all right,” he says. He’s never been a good liar, but he has to be now, because there’s nowhere good this line of inquiry can lead; nowhere but rejection and he can’t have that, he doesn’t want Wonshik’s pity or worry and he _needs_ his friendship.

Wonshik frowns. “Are you sure? We—before last night, this whole semester, we didn’t know you were a virgin. Maybe we should have-”

“I wanted to,” Hongbin says stubbornly. “If I didn’t, I would have said so.”

“I know, but-” Wonshik shakes his head. “I’m doing this all wrong. I’m sorry. I just want—you’re one of our best friends. I want you to be okay. I don’t want us to-”

“We’re fine.” Hongbin can’t let that be a lie. He can’t let last night ruin what they do have. “I need to get ready for class, so…”

“Right.” 

Wonshik pauses on his way out, though, touching a stray mark on the crook of Hongbin's neck. “We should’ve been more careful,” he muses, more to himself than to Hongbin.

Hongbin sways a little toward him, then goes still, hoping Wonshik’s too tired to have noticed. He wishes that last night had let him get closure for his feelings, not just taught him precisely what it is he’s craving. “They’ll go away,” he says with a cheerfulness he doesn’t feel, and hopes the marks on his heart will, too.

 

 

 

 

 

 

This is why Hongbin hates Kappa Tau’s gossip mill.

By the time he’s finished breakfast and gets to class, he’s stopped by several of his brothers, all of whom seem to know all about what happened. (Given the number of jokes he hears about Zitao crying his name loud enough for the whole house to overhear, though, he’s at least assured that Sanghyuk hadn’t spread the word.) He wonders if Zitao and Wonshik will have to field questions and remarks when they wake up, too, and what they’ll say in reply. If they’ll eventually decide the whole thing was too much bother and regret that it happened at all. Like he needed something else to worry about.

By the time he gets out of his public speaking class—his only class of the day, thankfully—he’s starving, but he doesn’t want to go back to the house. He doesn’t want to hear any more that the others have to say. For the first time in years he doesn’t even want to confide in Sanghyuk. Sanghyuk would listen and try to help, but how could he understand when the only guy he’s ever really wanted looks at him like he’s the only person in the room? 

Instead he buys lunch at the café across the street from Cartwright, eats quickly before any Kappa Taus can show up, and then heads to the quad. He needs something else to focus on other than how he can still feel echoes of Wonshik’s touch on his skin, and photography’s always been his go-to distraction.

Except for today, apparently, when even after half an hour of trying to capture a half-decent shot he’s still upset. Being in the quad means being surrounded by people; by _couples_. Hongbin could do a photo study on that, too: Zitao and Wonshik, Sanghyuk and Baekhyun, Taekwoon and Hakyeon, Taemin and Jongin. Maybe even Jaehwan and Kyungsoo. Two people who fit, and how Hongbin probably has too many awkward edges to fit with anyone.

He’s retreated to the quad steps, resting his head against the wall, when Taekwoon sits down next to him. “What are you doing here?” Hongbin asks.

“Dropped Hakyeon off for class,” Taekwoon says quietly. “He told me what happened.”

Hongbin bolts upright, panic shooting through his system. “He knows?” Taekwoon just looks at him, and Hongbin groans. “You’re right, he knows everything. Is he here? He’s not going after Wonshik, is he?” That’s the last thing he needs, Hakyeon getting involved. Hongbin just wants it to go away, and nobody can drag things out like Hakyeon.

Taekwoon shakes his head, and Hongbin takes a few deep, calming breaths. “I said I’d talk to you.”

“Thanks.” Hongbin’s gaze drops down to his feet. “I shouldn’t have done it. I—everyone’s said all semester that they were flirting with me, but I didn’t believe it, and…” Hakyeon and Jaehwan would have been full of advice had Hongbin confided in them instead, but Taekwoon just listens. He’s always been good at that. Hongbin swallows, grip tightening on his camera strap. “Did you ever feel like you were too… like you’d never fit with anyone? Like you’d always be alone, or -” But that’s too much to say, even for him. Even for today. He cuts off with an awkward laugh, raking a hand through his hair, for once not caring if it ruins the carefully tousled style. “Sorry, I know-”

“Yes,” Taekwoon says, and smiles, just a little, when Hongbin’s gaze flickers up to him.

Hongbin sighs, and Taekwoon nudges his side, which Hongbin takes as his cue to rest his head against Taekwoon’s shoulder. “Did you get some good pictures today?” Taekwoon asks.

“A few,” Hongbin says, holding out his camera. “Want to see?”

“Sure.”


End file.
